The entrance to Al Mokawloon Al Arab’s youth academy has an unexpectedly formidable presence. At first, the source of that impression is difficult to identify. It may come from the exterior, where heavy concrete panels and marble-effect edging shift in tone with the light, or from the uncompromising black steel gate. The large white Arabic lettering against the dark surface also lends the building a sense of authority, reinforced by the smaller notices and announcements surrounding it. Yet a closer look at other buildings across Nasr City in eastern Cairo reveals that this combination of practical and decorative features is fairly typical of the area.
What truly gives the building its significance is the prominent portrait above the gates. Anyone entering is following a path once taken by Mohamed Salah, who began coming here at the age of 14 before making history. His image occupies the most visible position, recalling both his beginnings and the discipline, resolve and ability that carried him forward. His achievements once appeared beyond possibility.
Hamdi Nouh, Salah’s first coach at Al Mokawloon and a man the player has described as a “second father”, attributes that success to his willingness to give up almost anything, work relentlessly and continue learning. Those qualities sound straightforward until the demands placed on a boy from Nagrig are considered: five days each week, he travelled for about nine hours simply to attend training in Cairo. His route has since become famous around the world. It usually required at least four buses in each direction: from the junction outside his village to Basyoun, then onward to Tanta, the capital of Gharbia Governorate, followed by the roughly 100-kilometre journey to the crowded Ramses Square and another connection from Cairo’s central transport hub to Nasr City. On fortunate days, the final vehicle brought him close to the club. Otherwise, he had to run almost two kilometres uphill to reach training on time. After spending four hours at the academy, he repeated the entire journey home.
Retelling the route as a simple list of connections, as many accounts have done since Salah began redefining elite performance in the Premier League in 2017, fails to convey the strain of his routine. The sacrifice Nouh describes included surrendering much of his childhood to overcrowded microbuses, pressed tightly among passengers who filled every available space and sometimes clung to the outside. Salah was constantly hurrying towards the next stop, anxious that he might miss an unpredictable connection while carrying only the exact fare he needed. He respected his father too much to request additional money, even though one mistake could leave him stranded. Remarkably, Salah viewed the exhausting trip as an adventure rather than a burden. Looking back in 2022, he explained that travelling never seemed tiring because he was pursuing something he deeply wanted. Instead of concentrating on the hardship, he focused on the destination. He said those memories remained unforgettable and still made him smile.
His mother, known as Umm Mohamed, remembers that period very differently. She disliked the fact that her eldest son attended school for only two hours, from seven until nine in the morning, before travelling far beyond the village on roads where traffic rules were loosely observed and reckless driving was common. Reports of frequent microbus crashes filled her with fear. When a serious collision occurred along Salah’s route and he failed to answer his phone, her concern became panic. She called more than 20 times before learning that he had simply fallen into a deep sleep. Both she and her husband also worried about whether he carried enough money. His father, Salah Ghaly, worked in government administration and traded jasmine, the crop for which Nagrig is best known. He financed his son’s development, beginning with Ittihad in Basyoun, about 30 minutes away, and then the Othmason club in Tanta, a 90-minute journey. Salah made both moves before entering his teenage years, after which came the far more demanding commute to Al Mokawloon.
Salah was eight when he began training in Tanta, attacking defenders with remarkable confidence. Ghamri Abdel-Hameed el-Saadani, then a junior coach at the youth centre, remembers a small boy with a powerful left foot, a strong shot and exceptional speed. He could control and manipulate the ball in ways the other children could not. His father recognised that ability. Although he feared the pressures of Cairo and knew how easily the city could overwhelm young players with ambitions, he reassured Umm Mohamed that supporting their son was the correct decision.
Behind the steel gates at Al Mokawloon’s academy is another story, one less widely known than Salah’s lengthy commute. A teammate once proposed that they spend the week at his uncle’s home in Greater Cairo. The property was in 10th of Ramadan City, and Salah needed considerable effort to persuade his parents to approve the arrangement. His father gave him 60 Egyptian pounds before the boys departed. They reached the house late at night, only to discover that the uncle was absent. With little money and no understanding of where else they might stay, they found themselves stranded.
At that stage, Salah knew Cairo mainly through the roads leading to Al Mokawloon. His teammate, whose identity Salah has kept private to shield him from unwanted attention, suggested visiting another acquaintance who lived nearby. On arrival, Salah discovered that the home stood inside a cemetery, a troubling consequence of Cairo’s housing shortage and dense population. Frightened and uncomfortable with the idea, he refused to spend the night there. His friend then offered one final solution: an administrator working at Al Mokawloon might allow them into the grounds. Once admitted, they spread the sheets they had brought across the floor immediately behind the steel gate, creating two temporary beds.
Using his shoes as a pillow, Salah set an alarm for 6am so they could leave before anyone noticed them and placed the administrator at risk of punishment. They gathered their bedding, went outside and returned to the training complex at 9am, pretending they had only just arrived. Their secret sleeping arrangement continued, but the location had to change because remaining beside the entrance was too dangerous. The following night, they slept in the open on Field 2, one of the complex’s four pitches, beneath the cold sky. Each morning they quietly concealed what they had done, while Salah appreciated one clear advantage: he could never be late for training.
By the age of 18, Salah had already accumulated years of sacrifice, persistence and hard-earned experience. Yet the occasion he remembers most clearly came when he was promoted to the senior squad and received a place in Al Mokawloon’s accommodation. Because only selected players were allowed to live there, the move changed how he viewed himself and made him feel as though he had finally become an important player. He had often watched footballers finish training and walk upstairs while he began the long return trip to Nagrig, promising himself that he would eventually join them. In time, he rose far beyond that residence and reached heights no Egyptian footballer before him had achieved.
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